


Cast Another Glance at Temptation Sleeping In His Bed

by bravelove



Category: The Yogscast, William Strife - Fandom
Genre: But who cares if its only technically horny what everyone really gets off on is intense metaphors!, Desire, Hurt/Comfort, I found a draft in my docs and accidentally turned into flowery purple prose oops, I will admit Parvis is more of a metaphor then a person in this fic but sh, Like so many metaphors who let me do this?!, M/M, Purple Prose, Sexual Themes, Somnophilia, The most vague horny to ever vague horny, Thought to be unrequited love, Way too much religious references I called Parvis an angel like once and it kinda spiraled away, Yearning, dont worry nothing actually happens about it Strifes just dealing with Thoughts, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravelove/pseuds/bravelove
Summary: A moonlit silhouette of what is wanted, and yet can never be had. For he is a man, the world is fickle, and fickle things were never for him.
Relationships: Alex Parvis/William Strife
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Cast Another Glance at Temptation Sleeping In His Bed

After several months of sharing a single cramped bed, Strife had finally built a bigger base that could support a second bed. Thus with no reason to continue each other's company in a bed, they had stopped sharing a bed. While the bed was excellent and he enjoyed no one else hogging the covers. Strife had quickly found himself left awake more often than when Parvis was squirming next to him, trying to get cozy. Instead of getting actual restful sleep, a ghost imprint of human contact would shiver onto his skin, and he would always seem to find himself staring at his sleeping apprentice, watching how peaceful he looked, no longer bothering him or being a pest, just calm and quiet.

A few nights of this passed, and soon it started to make Strife’s heart skip a bit when he watched the sleeping Parvis, silent and at a stillness, he could never have while awake. Strife found himself noticing how pretty his apprentice was in absent thought, at how he looked almost ethereal in the moonlight peeking through the windows. He was almost in awe at how it haloed him, like a sleeping angel in a most sacred sanctuary. Strife always felt himself blush when he dwelled on it, which only caused him to blush more in his attempts to push the thoughts down. It was natural to think a handsome man is handsome when sleeping. There was nothing weird here. His body was just having a natural, uncontrollable instinctual response to enjoyable visual stimuli. That’s what he told himself those nights as the image of Parvis and the moon printed themselves upon his closed eyelids as he tried to blind himself from beauty, an indulgence he could not afford himself, but he could not escape.

No matter how many times he ended up here, he would always huff before trying to move his gaze away from his apprentice, only for his eyes to decide to then linger on his lips. Parvis was a very heavy sleeper, he noted with mild interest once more, really it was quite a show of trust that he lets himself sleep so close to Strife in such a deep state. Sure, if Strife killed him, he’d just respawn but still.... plenty of other things one could do, that he could do. Things that always lingered in his mind.

Just the thought of It made his heart beat faster in quiet anticipation of what could happen, of how much faith Parvis put in him for really no reason. He could so quickly kiss him right now with no fuss. Which promptly made him slam the brakes on his thoughts right then as he always did. Forcing himself to scowl while he rubbed his eyes to break the line of sight, he refused to linger on. After all, this was his apprentice. He couldn’t be having thoughts like that! It wasn’t proper! No matter how cold Strife’s soul may have been, he still had a line.

Forcing himself to turn to the other side of the bed, no matter how much Parvis’ gentle shallow breaths caught his eye before he could look away. He refused to think about how it would be so easy to do anything as long as Parvis stayed drifting through his unconscious left ignorant to the world around him, kept in some quiet perverse facsimile of gentle tender softness? With a sharp pinch of his cheek, Strife forced those thoughts to come to an end. 

He couldn’t let this fascination continue. It was improper and very questionable, to say the least! So once more, he forced his eyes away from him to stare at a wall, and force himself to sleep. This would probably go away in the morning, just some late night tired thinking, absentmindedly trying to solve the problem of making Parvis be more reliable. It meant nothing. This was just him noting something breakable so he could exercise caution; it was nothing, just like how every night before was nothing.

It never really was nothing though, no matter how he may pretend, and every night, Strife would find himself staring at Parvis, and each night his thoughts grew more detailed, a more intricate depiction of things he could do. It started simple enough, dealing with an urge to feel his stubble a bit, maybe comb his hair or feel his heartbeat. Strife could deal with those simple petty, meaningless urges for contact was not something Strife was unused to quashing. 

However, soon it grew from innocent to more, questionable. Thoughts that made Strife toss and turn in need yet also made his skin prickle in uncertainty. He imagined gently kissing the sleeping apprentice, thoughts turning from platonic cheek kisses to more intimate throat nibbles. He whispered to the thought of pressing Parvis’ body next to his and holding him close, always running through his mind, desiring to run his hands on him and learn every crevice gently. All while Parvis slept, somehow always haloed by the moon as both an angel and a temptation of sin in of itself. All in a silent fragile beauty that drove Strife mad.

No matter how many cold dips into the lake, he took though, he could not stop the thoughts that were coming. Thoughts that made him bite his knuckles not to react too. While he did his best to repress those thoughts, he refused to be that sort of predator to anyone, let alone for one he cared for, he was only a man and so the thoughts came anyway. The guilt faded a bit soon enough, though, as he adjusted to them. After all, they were just thoughts, he would not act on them, and he could ignore them. Though that prickle of uncertainty, the edge of a guilt he knew he should feel never left.

Nothing would happen after all as he started at Parvis, noting for the thousandth time that Parvis was just such a heavy sleeper. Parvis would never notice if Strife slipped his tongue into his mouth to explore. Parvis would barely even twitch if Strife ran a finger down to his inner thighs and explored there as well. Many potential things he could do, and Parvis would be so warm and pliant in all of them. He bit his knuckles once more to not moan, starting to feel himself stiffen a bit. No one would know if Strife tested to see what Parvis would do if someone gently pried his jaw open and slipped a finger into his mouth. Would he bite? Would he suckle them? Would he just lay there with no change for them to do whatever? All three options made him want to rut against the mattress a bit. Indeed Parvis had him in yet another tizzy. 

With a shake of his head, Strife got out of bed, ignoring the aching between his legs. He silently left the building. As he approached the lake for yet another cold shock to his system, his thoughts never left Parvis. He ached to learn everything about his apprentice while he was so calm, so peaceful. He wanted him to feel good; he wanted to be gentle; he wanted the tenderness that he could only get under the moonlit windows.

He bit back a whine at the thought of his beautifully stubborn Parvis being treated to such feather-soft touches, being taken apart in such gentle ways at his most trusting, at his most weakest, the thought made him weak in the knees. He bet it would give the man beautiful dreams. His ache only grew as he thought of how _pliant_ Parvis would be, free to be moved and designed and taken from beautiful unpolished art to a true masterpiece. Yielding and soft as Strife worked the man into the beauty he knew he could be, an angel to a god. The muse to all his worst yet softest desires, displayed to the world as he is in Strife’s mind. The perfect sculpture of rapture yet hunger, polished and preened to perfection.

The thought made his skin crackle with need, his need to make all things neat and perfect starting to claw at his heart; however, this just strengthened his resolve as he took his first step into the lake once more. He knew he should never tolerate those thoughts, no matter the things it did to him. No matter the ecstasy that raced over his skin, Parvis was a living person, someone under his care, not some untapped resource to be taken and sculpted to Strife’s many whims. Soon the chill as he stepped further into it would chase it all away for another night. He could try again tomorrow. As he let himself float in the water, he could see the moon, bright and glowing so like Parvis. He wondered if it haloed him as well, but he knew such blessings were not for him. The moon was fickle, like all things were, and fickle things were never for him.

As the tripes got more and more nightly, Strife feared he would get caught one night. However, if Parvis even noticed an increase in puddles and that Strife’s bed always had a tinge of dampness to it, he never mentioned it. Strife would never bring it up either. To speak would be to admit that he so often violated him in his eyes and mind to need such coldness as a constant. He knew Parvis would laugh about it, but it’d be a front. How could anyone know the person they were charged under was repeatedly assaulting them with their eyes and thoughts as they slept and not be afraid? It wasn’t safe to give the thoughts to anyone; it was not Parvis’ burden to bear. So he would keep stepping into the lake, and they both would keep not commenting on the wetness that seemed to permeate him these days.

Eventually, Strife decided to spend a bit to try and solve the problem. Custom ordered sleeping masks arrived at their door even if Strife was still cringing at the shipping cost to such a backwater planet. He huffed to Parvis about how everything was too dang bright on this planet and how he never was able to sleep. Parvis seemed to buy it as he teased Strife about being such a picky sleeper, and if Strife secretly modified them, o he couldn’t easily take them off and give in to temptation, who would know. Hopefully, if he couldn’t see Parvis haloed in moonlight, hair mussed, and lips parted, the thoughts would slow. That maybe this could be the solution to the worst part of this all. He was right, though he was a bit dismayed that they didn’t stop. However, the desires started to leak into half-remembered dreams, but that was acceptable; dreams weren’t the same as actively picturing it; too abstract. It was better. Dreams could, after all, be forgotten so much more quickly than lucid wanton moonlight.

Sure some nights, he would misplace the masks, forsaking his salvation from temptation, whether on accident or rarely on purpose when temptation grew too deep. He was still only human; after all, he could allow a rare break to take in his clever apprentice at rest. To get a chance to appreciate his chaos through a moment of his peace. To wonder what goes on in his bright churning mind and how to best slot against him to get that churning mind only on him. It filled him with shame to have this weakness, but If only for his peace of mind that Parvis was still there, quiet and ethereal, he could allow himself this. He just had to remember to always end up back at that lake on those nights and to never give in to the urge to settle that deep ache it gave him the old fashioned way. He just had to make it until the apprenticeship was over, and he and Parvis would go their separate ways.

However, one night with salvation stuffed in a drawer to be forgotten for a bit, he realized with a start that the thought of losing parvis, of being alone with the moonlit spotlight, it left him full of dread. He had been so foolish and gotten attached. He wanted to keep Parvis close like anything else that caught his fancy. He was a selfish man at heart. After all, he took and took, and he had never wanted to take something this much in such a long time. He dragged a hand down his face as he decided right then he wouldn’t do that to Parvis. As much as he yearned to be selfish, humanity be damned, he knew though that Parvis was no ruby to be worn around; he was a human Strife respected and deserved his autonomy. No matter how much temptation he may embody, ethereal things cannot be grabbed so easily, and to do so would turn it into something it wasn’t and never should have been. Strife knew his sins were many, but he was still a man with a heart that beat, and he would stay strong.

He cast another glance at temptation sleeping in his bed and resolved for once in his life he would not be selfish, he would not. He would nurture and push his apprentice while protecting him, and if Parvis wanted to walk away? He’d let him go, no matter how the greed in his chest hissed at the thought of losing him. He owed Parvis that at least, he would not be the one to force Parvis into a cage. Parvis was too big for any cage to hold, no matter if he yearned to try it anyways, Parvis would be free to spread his wings, and like a good mentor, Strife will be proud, and he will open the window to let him fly away. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Though, a part of him would always hope Parvis would stay, no matter how far away he flew. He crushed those thoughts as well. It was best not to give himself an inch and risk-taking a mile with thoughts like his. Parvis would leave him, and he would smile for him. He couldn’t say why he was so attached, but Strife knew that he would ruin them both if he didn’t temper it. No matter how cunning and clever and complementary and wonderful they were together, Strife could not let himself dwell. He had to keep moving forward, never looking back. He plunged into the lake again. The cold was the only caress he would be allowed. It’s permeating chill the closest to divine touch he would ever get.

Time passed, though, and Parvis never did fly away from him. His thoughts never truly left him even as he changed from a simple lake to an ocean outside a castle as they found themselves collapsed upon the giant mass of bed that was the cultist room. They found the other craved each other’s company, cuddling up to the other despite all the space. Strife slept easier, though privately, he mourned the loss of the moonlight. He knew it was a good thing, though, false desires blocked out by the reality of a wall. Such a loss would only improve his sleep, though still he let himself mourn for it, for no one else would, nor had anyone else even noticed it was there. 

Those days they woke up tangled, and slowly Strife found himself heading to the ocean less and less. Strife realized he was content, Parvis kissed him that day, and then he realized he was happy. 

Perhaps it was love that Strife was always fighting, but even as he finally was able to slot himself perfectly to Parvis, his mind remembered the moon kissed lips. Even as he was allowed to hold Parvis under him and kiss away his moans, he remembered the star touched thighs. He was happy, but at the back of his mind, guilt prickled at thoughts still not entirely gone. Then Parvis kissed him so sweetly and coaxed the truth out of him after him, unable to still his hand again about the dampness in his hair and the water stains on the beds. Just what had he been doing to himself, what have you done to yourself, William Strife.

Strife had felt so much terror in those minutes of confession, but Parvis just kissed his hand and smiled. Called him silly for worrying so much and said he was flattered. Told him even if it was undoubtedly very kinky thoughts he had there, they weren’t bad or dangerous. That maybe they could look into it later after Parvis had some time to digest. To stop going to the chill as self-punishment. For once, Strife was left warm, the ocean chill in his bones chased away by a love more potent than the sun.

And if soon after the talk, a window was installed in the cult bedroom. A window that caught the moonlight so perfectly to leave Parvis’s favorite spot in silhouette. And if the ocean started to still. An ocean with no more footprints led out from its depths. Then one could say the pair truly was blessed, couldn’t they?


End file.
